Bargaining Aside
by Jade Hunter
Summary: LotR crossover, Buffy-centric. Resurrections spells are highly dangerous, and none truly know how they work. In this AU post-Season 5 fic, Willow's attempt to resurrect Buffy fails miserably...or so she thinks.
1. Rude Interruptions

**Title: **Bargaining Aside

**Author:** Jade Hunter

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters and properties of _Lord of the Rings_ or _Buffy: the Vampire Slayer_ belong to me.

**A.N:** Although I truly enjoy those Buffy-falls-through-portal-to-ME fics out there, there are too many of that now, not nearly half as good as some. I always like to think of other, more plausible ways to do crossovers, besides portals, and this is what I came up with…I hope it's different. Haven't seen anything like it so far, and I will do my best to keep it as different as possible.A.N.2: As you can tell from the title, this takes place in _Bargaining_, and many of the scenes in this prologue should be recognizable from that episode. As for _LotR_, it is movieverse – simply because the writing style and speech pattern is easier to incorporate with Buffy's thoughts and speech – and it takes place about…well, you'll see.

* * *

She turned it over in her hands, gazing intently at it, and almost didn't notice Tara coming to sit next to her. 

"The Urn of Osiris," the blonde Wicca said softly.

Willow looked up from her scrutiny of the Urn, to place her somber gaze on Anya, who sat opposite her. "You really found it."

"Yeah. It wasn't easy," the ex-vengeance demon said. "I went through every supplier the Magic Box has."

Alarmed, Willow furrowed her eyebrows. "You used a Magic Box supplier? What if Giles found out?"

"He's too busy not leaving to pay any attention to me," Anya replied irritably, glancing quickly at Xander, who was standing next to her, remembering their conversation earlier. "Besides, I ended up getting it on eBay."

Tara did a tiny double take; "You found the last known Urn of Osiris on eBay?"

"Yeah," Anya nodded. "From this desert gnome in Cairo. He drove a really hard bargain, but I finally got him to throw in a limited addition Backstreet Boys lunchbox for – "

Xander hurriedly chose this moment to cough loudly, making Anya pause. Nervously, he let his gaze flick to her, then away, hoping she didn't give it away.

"…for a friend," she finished slowly.

He caught Tara looked at him with a small smile, and he pretended not to notice, turning to Willow and changing the subject. "So, you got your somber on, Will, is the Urn not up to spec?"

Willow, who had returned to studying the Urn, ignored him for a moment, after which she turned to Tara and sighed, "It's the one." She set the Urn down on the table, finishing firmly, "Which means it's time."

Immediately, Xander became anxious. "It's time?" He took a seat, afraid his legs wouldn't hold him thought the conversation, and babbled, "Like, **time**, time? With the…timeliness?"

"Are you sure?" Anya asked, quietly. She, of all the people in Xander's apartment, knew how serious what they were planning on doing was, knew how dire the consequences could be. She needed to know that Willow, their main contender, was absolutely ready.

A steady look in her determined eyes, Willow simply replied, "I am."

"Mercury's in retrograde, and we have…" Tara trailed off, and turned to Willow. "Do we have everything?"

The red-haired Wicca nodded, "Just about."

Getting up, she crossed the room to where their gathered supplies lay, and began to put them in a bag.

Xander, still unsure, asked, "But why the sudden rushy-rush? I mean, did the 'bot blow our cover at school?"

"No, she did great, she impressed all the teachers," Tara smiled briefly.

He blinked. "And they still thought it was Buffy?"

Willow turned back to face them, her expression serious and resolved. "Tomorrow night, we'll meet back here."

Jumping up out of his seat, Xander cried out, "Whoa! Let's apply the breaks and check the rear-and-side-view mirrors, here!" Everyone turned to look at him, and, calming slightly, he reasoned, "This is deep stuff, Willow. We're talking about raising the dead."

"It's time we stop talking," Willow replied firmly. "Tomorrow night…we're bringing Buffy back."

"Tomorrow?" Xander repeated, moving nervously. "I don't know."

Anya stood up and moved next to Xander, supporting him. "Um, D-Discovery Channel has monkeys. And our tape machine's all wonky."

Exasperated with all the hesitance and the set backs, Willow refrained from shouting at them, asking them why they couldn't see the importance of this. Instead, she took a deep breath. "Guys, I need you on board, here."

"It's just," Xander fidgeted nervously. He didn't want to go against his best friend, but… "It feels wrong."

Tara gazed at him solemnly. "It is wrong," she said simply, ignoring the surprised look Willow sent at her, concentrating on Xander. "It's against all the laws of nature, and practically impossible to do, but it's what we agreed to." For some reason, having his feelings confirmed didn't seemed to make Xander feel better, and Tara offered, "If-if you guys are changing your minds – "

"Nobody's changing their minds," Willow insisted strongly. "Period."

Her tone brooked no arguments, but Xander frowned and did so anyway. "Excuse me? Who made you the boss of the group?"

"You did," Anya chirped up.

Tara nodded in agreement, "You said Willow should be boss."

Willow moved away to continue packing the rest of the supplies as Anya continued, "And then you said 'let's vote' and it was unanimous…"

"…and then you made her this little plaque that said 'Boss of Us' – you put little sparkles on it…" Tara reminded.

"Valid points, all," Xander said. "But we…I mean…" He didn't know how to express his deep-rooted hesitation into words, and became frustrated as he wondered why the others didn't feel as he did. "We were just talking then."

Willow paused and looked at him to say, "Xander, I can do this, I promise. But not without you."

Again, he hesitated.

"Should we maybe tell Giles?" Anya asked. "You know, now that we're really ready? It's not like he's going anywhere. Ever," she added, bitterly.

"No," Willow said. "No one else can know. Not Giles, not Spike, not Dawn." Her voice lowered as she finished, "They might not understand."

Tara sighed. She was feeling hesitant as well, but would support Willow's decision. She knew the spell that was going to be used, and it was far different from what Dawn had tried to use after… "What if something does go wrong?"

"I'm telling you, it won't," Willow shook her head, frustrated with the doubts that seemed to overwhelm everyone when they were so close to achieving their goal.

"Scenario," Xander offered. "We raise Buffy from the grave, she tries to eat our brains. Do we: a) congratulate ourselves on a job well done – "

"Xander, this isn't zombies," Willow snapped, annoyed.

Anya chimed in with her random demon fact of the day, "Zombies don't eat brains anyway, unless instructed to by their zombie masters. A lot of people get that wrong."

"This isn't like Dawn trying to bring Mrs. Summers back, or anything we've dealt with before," Willow continued, as if Anya's interruption had never happened. "Buffy didn't die a natural death. She was killed by a mystical energy."

"Which means we do have a shot," Tara admitted.

Willow shook her head. "It means more than that," she said, and turned to Xander. "It means we don't know…where she really is."

"We saw her body, Will," he reminded her. "We buried it."

"Her body, yeah, but her soul…her essence, I mean, that could be somewhere else. She could be trapped, in-in some sort of Hell dimension, like Angel was," Willow said intensely, and paused, tears welling up in her eyes as suppressed emotion came to the surface. "Suffering eternal torment, just because she saved us, and I'm not gonna let…I'm not gonna leave her there." After a pause to regain her composure, she gazed at Xander. "It's **Buffy**."

Xander gazed at his best friend for a long moment. She was right. Glory had opened up a portal to her home dimension, which they knew was a Hell dimension, and from all the nasties that had popped up in the few minutes the portal had existed, it was a doozy of a place. If Buffy's soul was stuck there, then it was their job to rescue her. And it wasn't as if he didn't want her back…

"What time do we meet?"

* * *

Willow took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled to relieve the tenseness of her muscles. She had been stretched taut all day, looking forward to this moment, and had even ditched some of her classes. Grades be damned, she needed all her strength and focus for this. 

"Does everybody have their candles?" she asked.

Anya, flicking the lighter continuously, frustration evident in her expression, said, "I'm trying, but my lighter won't stay lit!"

Frowning, Willow urged, "Well, hurry, it has to – "

"What time is it?" Tara interrupted.

Xander checked his watch. "A minute till midnight."

At that, Willow became even more anxious. "C'mon, Anya, do you have it?"

"It got it, I got it, I got it," Anya replied hurriedly, dropping the lighter carelessly onto the ground. She used her free hand to shield the candle flame from the winds.

Hearing this, Willow focused her gaze on the tombstone in front of her, her mind on the task ahead of her.

BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS  
1981 – 2001  
BELOVED SISTER  
DEVOTED FRIEND  
SHE SAVED THE WORLD  
A LOT

The words they had chosen seemed so inadequate to describe all that Buffy had done, all that she had been, if not to the world, then to them. She had changed all their lives in endless ways, had saved the very same lives countless of times. There were no words to describe the impact Buffy left on their worlds, on the worlds of all those that met her, and so they had settled on the simplest, hoping the feelings behind the words would be conveyed.

Don't worry, Willow thought fiercely. _Don't worry, Buffy. We're going to save you._

Willow thought fiercely. 

"Okay," she told the others. "Start the circle. Now."

They all knelt in unison, around the grave, the flickering light of their candles casting deep shadows on their faces, reflecting hard and determined expressions. Willow, holding the Urn of Osiris instead of a candle, took out the jar of blood that she had recently obtained directly from the fawn and poured the blood into the Urn.

Ignoring the nervous looks that blossomed on Xander's and Tara's faces, she intoned solemnly, "Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us."

Dipping a finger into the Urn, Willow steeled herself, and drew with the blood on her forehead and cheeks the ritualistic marks necessary for the spell.

"Accept our offering," she continued. "Know our prayer."

Suddenly, she was jerked violently backwards, her arms being splayed at her sides. She felt pain as deep, ugly gashes appeared on her arms, oozing her lifeblood.

"Willow!" Xander reached out for her, but was halted by Tara's stuttered protests.

"No!" the other witch insisted. "She – she told me…she'd be tested. This is supposed to happen."

The words didn't make watching any easier or bearable, but Xander held himself in check as Willow, ignoring the pain, began to speak once more.

"Osiris!" she called out, louder than before. "Here lies the warrior of the people! Let her cross over!"

Displaying the first sign of pain since the beginning of the spell, Willow winced. Xander, Tara, and even Anya were horrified to see little bulges appear under the redheads skin, moving around and reminiscent of the scarabs in _The Mummy_. Willow gave out an involuntary moan of pain, and Xander tensed, watching the shapes move up his best friends arms and over her chest, towards her neck.

"She needs help!" he said, unable to tear his eyes away to look at Tara.

"Xander, she's strong," Tara replied, her own brows drawn together in doubt and worry. But she knew the ritual, knew that Willow could not stop now. "She said not to stop, no matter what! If we break the cycle now, it's over!"

Willow, blind to the entire world, took in heaving gulps of breath, trying not to scream, unaware that her friends were watching anxiously. She was deaf to the loud rumblings that suddenly cut through the air, but the others weren't.

"Oh god, what is that noise?" Anya asked nervously, but her attention was drawn back to Willow.

Willow was yelling now, and unaware; "Osiris! Let her cross over!"

The moving lumps under her skin, which traveled up her neck, cutting her off and causing her to choke.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Tara muttered under her breath, eyes wide and full of panic.

They could do nothing but watch as Willow fell forward onto her hands, gagging all the while. The head of a rather large snake appeared in her open mouth, and Willow clutched the grass with desperate fingers, trying not to choke or scream, feeling as if her throat was being ripped asunder. The snake slithered out of her mouth and onto the ground, and the other three looked on, horrified beyond belief.

"It's a test, it's a test," Tara repeated to herself, but her worry was strong, and her face crumpled. "Willow…"

Suddenly, Willow straightened forcefully to her knees, panting again, as orange lights began to swirl around her. "Osiris, release her!"

And the Buffybot ran up behind Tara, calling out, "Willow! I need service!"

Xander could recognize the sounds of motorcycles revving, and seeing how the Buffybot ran off after a last look, knew it could not mean a good thing. Sure enough, the motorcycles carried demons on them, and had it been another day, he would have boggled at the mere concept of it.

Right now, however, he was only aware of how exposed he and the others were. Spell be damned, their safety was far more important, and Xander abandoned his position to head towards Anya and Tara, who were clutching each other and looking around at the motorcycle demons. The 'bot was also trapped, being circled by a few of the demon gang.

Tara gasped, "Willow!"

The redhead was still encased in red-orange light, still panting, held in the thrall of the spell, unmindful of the demons that rode circles around them – until one ran over the Urn of Osiris.

"No!"

The scream was wretched from her throat as she felt the spell tear apart and fizzle out; the lights dissipated from around her, and the backlash was enough to send her mind reeling. Drained and groggy, Willow collapsed on the ground, shards of the broken Urn digging into the skin of her already bloody arms.

No…

None of them saw the snake slither into the grave, burrowing a hole through sheer force, glowing with a subtle, orange light.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a world several dimensions over, a small flash of light was all the warning the woodland animals had before a rotting corpse was deposited on top of innocent foliage. The corpse reeked of magic, and if that wasn't enough, there was a large snake coiled around the body, the sunlight reflecting off its scales and giving it an eerie glow. 

Needless to say, all animals sensibly cleared the area.

Thus, there was no soul, animal or otherwise, that saw the change that was slowly came upon the corpse, long void of life.

None saw the bones harden, the muscles and tendons re-grow, the skin coming back with a healthy and tanned glow, the hair become vitalized and full.

Nor did any see the snake disappear in sparkles of orange light, having fulfilled its purpose.

But someone heard the sound of the first breath of the former corpse, heard the harsh sound that was produced by long inactive lungs and throat.

They heard and went to investigate, their pace quickening as labored breathing faded, only to be replaced by small whimpers of unimaginable pain.

And what they came upon shocked them beyond words.

* * *

TBC… 


	2. Questions and Answers

**Title:** Bargaining Aside

**Author:** Jade Hunter

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters and properties of _Lord of the Rings_ or _Buffy: the Vampire Slayer_ belong to me.

**A.N:** Wowee! Lots of reviews, for one prologue! Well, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint anyone, although, I can't please everyone, can I? I hope everyone can understand my explanation of how Buffy arrived in Arda, and, if you can't, please say so, and I'll try to explain in more detail through e-mail or something.

* * *

"You seem troubled." 

Elrond leaned back in his seat, gladdened by the respite from the thoughts and questions that plagued him. "I am troubled, old friend."

"Is it the _Edain_ girl-child?" Erestor asked, taking a seat across from the Lord of Imladris.

Despite himself, Elrond smiled faintly at his counselor, "She is no child. I estimate her age to be around a score of years, perhaps a bit more."

"A score?" Erestor raised a brow. To him, it seemed ridiculously young. "She is so…small."

"Yes. It is clear that she is not of the Dúnedain," Elrond said. "Such small stature and fair coloring are more common in the lands of Rohan, but she knows not their language, nor the Common Speech." Here, he became pensive again, his brows furrowing as he began to ponder aloud. "She speaks no tongue that is familiar to me, and though she was in great despair when she first arrived in the care of Elladan, it is nothing compared to the state she is in now, after she discovered she could not understand the words spoken to her."

"She still barricades herself in her room, then?"

Elrond nodded wearily, "And refuses to emerge for any reason, no matter how beautiful the weather. She grows more lifeless as the days pass."

Although he was the high counselor to Elrond, and quite knowledgeable of many things, the workings of the _Edain_ was not among those things, and Erestor found himself intrigued. "It sounds somewhat similar to the behavior of elves who fade away from grief."

"Disturbingly similar," Elrond confirmed. "The race of Men are hardy, and I have never heard of such a case before. It disturbs me, that I cannot do anything for her."

"We do only what we are meant to do," Erestor said softly, knowing that his friend was remembering another time when he had failed to heal someone. "If you cannot help her, it is because you were not meant to."

Elrond's expression was grave as he answered, unconvinced, "Perhaps."

* * *

Buffy was dreaming. 

She didn't know what she was dreaming of, but her thoughts were clearer than they had been for a long time, her heart almost unbearably lighter, and she had no clue why she had been feeling so down lately. No, she **_did_** know, but it suddenly didn't seem so very important, in the nice dream of hers.

"We meet again, Slayer."

Or, what had been the nice dream of hers.

"Whistler," she said, crossing her arms. "You're in my dream. That is **_so_** wrong, on **_so_** many levels."

He smirked. "Nice to see you back to your chipper self again."

Buffy frowned.

"Anyway, you're probably wondering where you are," the annoying balance demon said, adjusting his travesty of a hat.

"For starters," she agreed. "And how I got here, why, and how do I get out?"

Whistler pursued his lips, looking serious for once. "Very loaded questions," he admitted.

"Don't make me threaten you again," she warned.

He stepped back, holding his hands in the air, "Whoa. I said that they were loaded, not that I can't answer them."

Adopting a 'go on' stance, Buffy braced herself for the worst.

"Your witch friend, she tried to resurrect you," he said bluntly. "She screwed up, big time."

"Willow?" Buffy whispered, and she was suddenly sitting on a couch that had not been there before. "She did this to me?"

"Not intentionally, of course," Whistler added. "She had the best of intentions. Of course, we all know where that road traditionally goes. She thought you were in hell, kid."

She would have laughed, had this been some sort of joke. But it wasn't, and now she felt like crying.

"As for where you are…" he paused, then took a different route. "Okay, it's like this. There are many different types of dimensions in existence. You know this."

Buffy nodded faintly.

"You also know that there are many different types of hell dimensions."

Again, she nodded.

"Right. What you don't know is that all the dimensions are like layers in a cake. There is a top, and a bottom to it, with middle stuff. Obviously, the bottom layers are made up of all the hell dimensions. So, logically, the very top dimension would be…"

"Heavenly dimensions?" she whispered, following the line of thought.

Whistler smiled, snapping his fingers. "Close. Heaven. Singular. The dimensions closest to it are utopian dimensions, of course, just like the dimensions closest to the hell dimensions have demons and some such, like your home dimension, but unlike the hells, there is only one Heaven. Where you were, by the way. Just to remove all doubts."

"Wait," Buffy frowned again. "If Heaven is a dimension, then anyone can get in, if they have the proper portal?"

Whistler shook his head. "No. Unlike most of the other dimensions, that dimension can only be accessed by those without corporeal forms. That is to say, spirits, or ghosts. Dead people. And the spirits are naturally drawn to their like, so those with malicious residue from life tend to drift to the hell dimensions, while others drift up."

"And so…"

"Oh, yeah. So, your witch-y friend tried her little black mojo. Tried to resurrect you. Did a half-assed job of it, and the Powers are pretty pissed with her right now, let me tell ya. Anyway, what resurrections spells basically do is drag the spirit back from wherever they are – because you always have a link with your body, no matter how long you've been dead – and shove them back in the real world. A shocker to most people, very traumatic."

"Tell me about it," Buffy muttered.

"I just did," Whistler smirked. "On with the story. The witch managed to drag your spirit through many dimensions before the party was interrupted. Now, that meant your spirit was wandering around here without a body for a few moments, but the, um, gods, I suppose you could call them, of this world caught on pretty fast. They alerted the Powers, who managed to snag your body from your dimension and deposit it here for your spirit to get in to. And here you are."

Buffy raised a hand. "Wait a minute. Why didn't the Powers just sent my spirit or whatever to my 'home' dimension?"

"Basic rules of magic," Whistler shrugged. "It's always easier to manipulate something inanimate."

"Oh."

"So that covers how you got here," he continued. "It's called Arda, this world. Not too shabby a place; it's somewhere in the middle of the 'cake'. So there's evil, but they're a minority, though powerful."

She frowned, "And does that have to do with why I'm here?"

"Eh?" he shook his head. "No, you probably shouldn't do anything. I mean, each dimension has its own destiny, and this one turns out fine by itself. The only reason you're here is because your witch's spell was interrupted ahead of schedule."

"So this is all because of an accident?" Buffy asked, incredulously.

"Basically, yeah," Whistler nodded. "Hey, you always complained about your Calling, no? Take this time to sit back and relax."

"Relax?" Narrowing her eyes, she demanded slowly, "How do I get home?"

He floundered for a while, then shrugged again.

"WHAT?"

"Well, no one really planned to have you here, so how could they give you a way out?" Whistler asked weakly, stepping back once more. "Give them time, they're working on it."

"How much time?" she asked shrewdly.

He floundered again, then, quailing under her glare, mumbled, "A few decades or so."

"WHAT?"

"Hey, you're not the center of their world, you know!" he defended. "They've got a whole universe to worry about!"

"But, but," she spluttered. "Decades?"

Whistler grimaced a bit, "Yeah, see, there's a little problem."

"What problem?" Her voice was deadly, and demanded a good answer.

He let out a breath of air, then gestured with his hands, saying, "Okay – I'm a balance demon. I keep the balance between good and evil. Between the Powers and the First."

"The First," whispered Buffy, remembering the entity that had almost caused Angel's death.

"Yeah. Well, sometimes, they like to cheat. Both the Powers and the First. And when one of them cheats, the other gets a freebie, as you'd call it," he explained. "For instance: the First began to corrupt the other Slayer, Faith. So the Powers brought your Angel boy back to even things out. But then the First tried to make Angel kill himself, so the Powers were able to send that little freak snowstorm so that it couldn't happen. The Powers manipulated the downfall of Glory; the First transferred her essence into Ben and put the Key in the same dimension as her, but that last one gave the Powers a chance to make the monks give the Key human form. Over the years, there have been lots of such events, too many to count, really."

She was starting to develop a headache. Was nothing in her life **_hers_**? Was everything controlled by the two warring entities? Every save, every failure – were they just results of some whacked out game?

"To get to the point," Whistler continued, "The Powers are kind of glad that you were resurrected here, instead of in your home dimension. Because if you'd been brought back there, it would have given the First an edge, because your second death? That was your time. But since you've been brought back here, there's no upheaval in the balance."

"Why?" asked Buffy, furrowing her brows in an attempt to follow the balance demon's line of thought. "I mean, there's an evil here, too, right? Why aren't I upsetting the balance here? And the First and the Powers aren't limited by one dimension."

"In a way, they sort of are," he corrected. "Your dimension has been their focal point for a long time now, ever since the beginning."

She sighed, and asked again, "Why?"

"Because it was a challenge. All the dimensions that aren't hell dimensions or utopian – the dimensions in the middle area – they're basically game boards. And, at the time of your dimension's creation, the Powers had a majority of the worlds in their grasp; evil was taking a beating. The First, angry at its losses, issued a challenge: it would create a world overrun with demons, and the Powers could create one thing in reply to save that world."

Realization overcame her. "The Slayer."

"The Slayer," Whistler nodded. "The First didn't know one person could be so affected, or that any average Joe who found out about the demons wouldn't stand for it. The First has always been bad at judging people, you see."

"Not so bad," she murmured, thinking of how close Angel had come to giving in.

"Anyway, that's the deal. The Powers have to think on a way to put you back in the game without giving the First a blank check," he finished. "And if they can't think of a way, they'll just have to wait until the First gives **_them_** a blank check. Until then, you're stuck."

"Well, what if I'm old and useless when they find out the answer? I don't want to die here!" Buffy exclaimed loudly. If she had to die again, she'd prefer doing it in her own dimension, thank you very much.

Whistler snapped his fingers, "I knew I forgot something!"

She eyed him warily. "What?"

"Yeah, that aging thing?" he smiled. "Not an issue."

She blinked, "Tell me I heard you wrong."

"Nope."

"And how is this possible?" she bit out.

"Whoa, another loaded question," he adjusted his hat once more. "Okay, you remember way back when, that time you drowned?"

"Yes," Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like I could forget."

"Right. And you remember how you were stronger after your friend brought you back to life?"

"Yeah, get on with it."

"Okay, this is something like that. See, **_that_** time, you were only in the Heaven dimension for a few minutes, really. Not even three. But, see, that dimension is so full of the goodness that your spirit just soaked it up, and when you got back to your body, you were better than ever. Now, scenario: if three minutes did that, then imagine what almost four months have done."

Buffy goggled at him, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. "Oh my god…"

"Yup," he smiled, tilting his hat. "You're pumped up with the white hat power. The killer is, with all the negative vibes from the close hell dimensions, it would have been negated had you been resurrected in Sunnydale. But you weren't, so…it's not going away."

"And this…energy I soaked up…it makes me immortal?" she asked, wanting a clarification.

"Not exactly," Whistler hesitated. "I'm not sure how to explain. You can be wounded, but it'll heal up super fast. You remember your Slayer healing? Think that, except enhanced beyond belief. Of course, it won't help if you get your head cut off, but you can avoid that, I'm sure."

"But where does the non-aging come in?"

"Er…your healing is sped up, so your rate of deterioration is slowed down. Aging is basically a body dying while you're still alive – as soon as your body starts to begin the dying process, it's going to be all healed up. Not really immortality, but close enough."

"But – " she began.

Whistler suddenly looked off into the distance, and frowned. "Ooops. I gotta go. See ya around, kid."

He turned and started to walk off into the distance, and her surroundings gave out a flare of bright light, blinding her. Buffy raised a hand to block her eyes and squinted, trying to spot him, remembering at last one important fact –

– and found herself squinting at the sunlight, streaming in from the balcony.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Buffy struggled up, running a hand through her hair, feeling altogether down and out once more.

"Oh god," she moaned, letting her head fall into her hands. "After all I've done for you bastards…the least you could have done was – "

The door opened, and a tall, beautiful woman walked in. It was the same woman that came every day, with her skin glowing and her thick, shiny hair trailing behind her like a cloak. In her hands, she carried a tray full of breakfast, and there was a small smile on her impossibly perfect face.

The woman set the breakfast tray on the small table in the room, and said something in a lilting tone that involuntarily relaxed all of Buffy's muscles. Then, the woman smiled again and left the room quietly, but Buffy knew from prior experience that she would be back two more times later, to bring lunch and dinner.

The Slayer sighed. "After all I've done for you bastards…you could have done something to get me to understand their stupid language."

* * *

TBC… 


End file.
